


Letters From Nowhere

by french_crap



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: AU, Epistolary, Fluff, How It Began, Implied Death, Jewellery Shop AU, M/M, alternative universe, prompt, quid pro quo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-01
Updated: 2015-06-01
Packaged: 2018-04-02 09:14:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 5,639
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4054582
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/french_crap/pseuds/french_crap
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"He made it sound like I was something special.<br/>Didn't react and just shrugged but was kinda feeling happy about that. Not lying, Ema, I really wanted him to think I'm something special. Its not fair when such an intelligent and kind person comes in and you just feel like dirt who's doing nothing but dealing with stolen gold. Wanted to be worth something. At least for him."</p><p>~~~</p><p>Back in Spring 1968, Combeferre met Brujon, just when latter tried to become an honest man. But trying to be honest, doesn't make you honest right away, does it? Doesn't make you worthy, doesn't make you good enough.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. 30th of June, 1970

**Author's Note:**

> I am so sorry that I am absolutely incapable of writing happy stories.
> 
> AU Prompt by Angie.  
> "Jeyyyyy I want a our Bruferre AU with the whole jewelry store thing :P"
> 
> If you are her, you will find at least five references to the time we spent together, and the movies we watched.

Dear Ema,

you once asked us about how me met, and the only response we gave you was some stuttered blushing and some blushed stuttering. See, it's not because we didn't want to tell you the truth, but because the truth is so closely connected to your person that we feared you would think us mad.

We also believed that no matter how we met, would not change the fact that Abba didn't want us to be together.

Now that I'm living so far away, though, and that don't have much left to think about but the one thing that still makes me happy, I feel like it is a necessity to tell you. Still hoping, you know.

Started when I suggested my friends to open a jewellery store. See, my friends aren't exactly the kind of people you want to hang out with after the night falls. Unless you're friends with them, which I was

There was Montparnasse, a dandy, the Devil knows if he is born as guy or a girl, but fact is they are a shapeshifter. See them one day as an old man, the next as a young student in a dress. Don't trust them, ever, they will lull you to calm and then cut you into pieces, feeding you to their dog.

But that's nothing to how fake Babet is. Look at that boy, looks like you can see right through him, like a fine, Chinese noodle, but his eyes are so dark that you never know what the fuck he is thinking. His mind is probably like a black pit, absorbing everything and never disgorging it again. The amount of secrets he keeps, Ema, don't want to know.

Claquesous wears a mask. Quite literal. Hides in the shadow and speaks with a voice that is surely not his own. Once followed him home. Turns out there's a reason for his voice to sound so deep, for his trousers to be so neat, for his shirts to be so wide. Not going to tell you his secret, but maybe you get what I'm trying to say. Anyway.

Those crooked shapes should be avoided unless you're one of them. And when you're one of them, you better stay on the dark side of the day to keep yourself in their favour. So when I suggested to open a jewellery store, they thought me mad. Thought me honest, thought me a traitor. Explained them that I merely wanted to make more profit out of what we steal and they were alright with it. All sudenly, bloody bastards. Gotta lie every now and then, don't we, Ema?

Brought all the stolen goods into a shop, had some money aside for quite a while now. You wouldn't think in what poverty one has to live to become rich. Opened my shop a few months later, up there, in Montmartre, where all the tourists are. It's good to be near tourists, their money sits loosely in their wallets. Students live there, too, though. Don't blame them. It's pretty up there. Not that I care about prettyness.

…

My shop was pretty. All red and golden, looked a bit like a fuckery but pretty nevertheless. Liked it. So did the other bastards from the Patron Minette. Especially Montparnasse had fun decorating the place. Twat.

Remember I had this comfy chair in the back behind the counter in which I would sit and watch the street behind the glass window. Glass window. Imagine a glassless or wooden window. What a stupid thing to say. Anyway. Fucking lots of tourists and students, right? All rich and pompuous, and disgusting. Don't like rich people much. Love them for their money but shit!, how I hate their attitude towards us. Can go fuck themselves. Don't take that personal, Ema, yeah? Not your fault that you own a shit ton of money. Just saying.

People came in and out, some even bought stuff. Made lots of money for the stolen goods. The Patron Minette was proud of me. So proud they barely let me keep my money. Ah, bastards. No, don't worry, am used to it. Things just go and come and fuck off again when you're living on the streets. Best not getting too attached to things. Will lose them soon enough.

One day he came in. Fucking handsome. With his golden eyes and those stupid girl's lips. What the fuck. Wasn't much time after I opened the shop, so I was still eager on selling as much as possible to get rid of all the stolen goods. To prove myself to the bastards, right? Fucking handsome dude walks through the shop looks at the things but doesn't buy anything.

“Can I help you?” eventually ask. All nice and shit. Mustn't scare the shit outa people, right?

“I'm just looking.” fucking handsome dude replies. Asshole. Gotta buy something, your looks won't buy me my rent. Funny enough, I didn't mind. Was priceless to see him gaze at all the gold around him. From time to time he glanced at me. Idiot. Thought I didn't see him. Saw him, of course. Smirked a little, though tried not to. Crossed my arms. Sometimes when I cross my arms it feels like stuffing away emotions and shit. Helps to not laugh or look terrified when you see a bastard being shot. Or cut off an ear. Happens quite often where I'm from. But don't worry, Ema, I'm safe.

“Looking for something specific?” asked. He smiled. Fucking neat, white teeth. Fuckward. Kinda envied him, kinda wanted him. Disgusting. What the fuck? 

“Just. Jewellery.” His laugh was really fucking pretty. Gotta emphasise that shit. REALLY FUCKING PRETTY. Like I wanted to strangle him. That's how really fucking pretty it was. Didn't, though. Would have been a bit weird. “I just happen to check out new places. I always appreciate new shops. Especially when they're so beautiful. The red you used for your wallpaper is really magnificent!” Talked like a real rich, this boy. Knew instantly that it was a student, with his bag full of patches and badges. “I believe that one should always try something new each day. Or life is yours to miss, isn't it?” Shrugged. “I just … like to think that.” Silence.

“Cool.” said. Trying to look cool. Was kinda very excited for him to be there, seeming so fucking ince and interesting, but that was embarrassing to say and to show, so I kept shut. Stared at each other for a while before he cleared his throat and said his goodbyes. Left. Was kinda awkward but I liked it. 

Ah, fuck. Need to stop writing, Ema. Write you again tomorrow. The sun is rising and I need to go home before they catch me here. Hope you're fine.

~ Brujon


	2. 1st of September, 1970

Dear Ema,

didn't mean to lie. Few weeks passed. Hope the letter reached you well. Kinda sucks that I can't receive your replies. Will message you my address as soon as I settled, promise. For now, know that I'm okay. Not quite legal, but okay. Can you tell him that? Please.

No idea where I was when I stopped writing the last time. Guess it was with me helplessly falling in love with him. So right the first time I saw him, hah. Fucking hell. 

He came back a lot. “Oh this is pretty.” he would say and never buy it. Didn't mind. At least I got to see him. Gave him honey one day. Said “Honey!” out loud and he laughed, thinking it was me making him shut up in the middle of a sentence. Thought I called him like that. Became his nickname later on, before I knew his name. People always say black skin tastes like chocolate. Think that's kinda racist, no? I don't taste like caramel just because my skin looks like that, no? Was sure that he tasted like honey. Fucking love honey.

When he realised that I actually gave him honey in a jar, he laughed some more. Fucking pretty laugh, Ema, fucking pretty laugh. Will probably for ever be the prettiest laugh, for me. Anyways. Told him I fished the honey myself. Said I'm a bee charmer. He laughed again and then got real ugh. All intelligent and student-ish. Started to tell me how bees are attracted by carbon dioxide, or whatever the air is we exhale. Was never good at chem class, skipped it most of the time. Don't need shit like that on the streets. Who cares why the house burns as long as it burns, right? Told me that bees are attracted to exhaling and when we move too quick. If I charm bees it just means that I'm really fucking calm around them, he said. Shows that I'm not scared of dangerous things, he said. Made it sound like something special. Didn't react and just shrugged but was kinda feeling happy about that. Not lying, Ema, I really wanted him to think I'm something special. Its not fair when such an intelligent and kind person comes in and you just feel like dirt who's doing nothing but dealing with stolen gold. Wanted to be worth something. At least for him.

He called me Bee Charmer, I called him Honey. Made it sounds like we were offended by it, teasing each other. When really we kinda liked it. Fucking hell, I was knee deep in love by then.

“I would like to be a forget-me-not.” he said few days later. He had brought some brioche for my honey after class. Was surprised but also not. Honey was good, I knew that, so it was hard to be surprised by nice gestures like this one.

“A forget-me-not? The blue little ones?”

“Yes.” he nodded. “They're so fine and small, yet so pretty.” There was something sad in his eyes so I asked:

“Been forgotten a lot, Honey?” 

Took him a while to reply. When he did, he seemed even sadder. “A few times, I fear. Mostly by those I never wanted to be forgotten by.”

Wanted to punch the person who hurt him. Can't just hurt such a kind and handsome dude, can you? Figured that punching a memory was difficult, though, so I didn't. Just kept eating my bread without another word.

“You'd be a poppy.” he said.

“A poppy?” What the fuck. Was always wearing black and had dark hair. Really didn't look like a pop, did I? 

“They're considered weed, yet they're the prettiest of them all.” he smiled at me. Felt like melting, my insides were liquid, I swear. He just smiled some more, blushed, and I forgot to answer. Would have kissed him right then and there. If the glass window hadn't been so big.

He also told me about friends of his. Two dudes and a girl, who was pregnant. She knew shit about who the father was because all three of them were together. Was kinda shocked. “Both guys are together with the girl?!” asked.

“And they're together with each other too.”

“Ew.” Wrinkled my nose. Kinda thought this was really cool, kinda thought that it was really odd.

“You see, Joly and Bossuet fell in love with each other a few years ago. When they met Musichetta they fell in love with her too. But instead of deciding who to choose, Musichetta offered to be with both of them. And now they're all three together, and very, very happy.” 

Wrinkled my nose some more. Wondered how crowded it must be in their bed. Especially with the girl being pregnant now.

Gotta go again. I swear I'm going to get to finish the story. But kinda don't want to die. Hope you and the dogs are okay.

~ Brujon


	3. 2nd of October

Dear Ema,

was sitting outside in the last warm summersun rays today, played some music. Remembered how he heard me play music for the first time. Came to visit me and stopped in front of my shop, where I sat, playing accordion. Handsome fuckward stared. Grinned back. Kinda liked him admiring me. Feels good to have someone so cool and intelligent acknowledge your talent. Nothing is better than being considered interesting by the most interesting person, right? When I stopped he sat down in front of me, in the middle of the street. Put his pretty hand on my knee and gazed up at me, with his golden eyes. 

“More.” he said. His voice gave me chills. Just smirked though, couldn't look back as lovey dopey, could I?

“Want do you want?” asked.

“Anything. Just, don't stop.” And then Honey smiled and I wanted to die. Wanted to grab him and kiss him and run away with him. Just shrugged, though.

“Kay.” And started playing another piece. He looked at my fingers, closed his eyes, looked at my hands and my smiles again, trailed his own fingertips over my veins until they reached the keys of my instrument.

“Can't play when your hands in the way.” grunted. He apologised, looking mesmerised. For the split of a second I saw his face coming closer, so I jolted up and went inside. He never followed and for a really long time, I didn't see him again.

~ Brujon, 29th of September, 1970

...

Ema,

tried to send you the letter but had no money for stamps left. Got some now so I'm going to write you some more. Told you about how he disappeared, didn't I? Well, reason was that he got hurt at the barricades. You probably remember 1968, how those fucking students decided to overthrow the government by tossing a few pavement stones? Turned out that he got injured in those fights. Poor, unlucky Honey.

Thought he was dead, though. Heard that some students had died and swore that he was one of them. Didn't have his name, you know. Didn't have his house number, name or anything. Just knew that he had the nicest laugh and the prettiest smile. Didn't know how to look for him and so I heard nothing of him for a few months.

Was walking down the street one day, when three people walked past me. Two dudes and a woman, holding a baby. Stopped walking and said: “Musichetta?!” All three stopped and looked confused. “Are you Joly, Bossuet and Musichetta?” asked again. They nodded. “Do you know a man this tall,” showed them with my hand, “all black with the prettiest smile and nicest laugh? Really fucking intelligent and kind? Wears a Star of David around his neck.” They nodded.

“Combeferre.” they said. “He's one of our best friends. What do you want of him?” 

Told them that I was a friend, that I hadn't seen him in a while and was worried. 

They looked at each other and I thought, shit man, I thought, they're going to tell me he's dead. Kinda wanted to cry already, so I crossed my arms. 

“He's been hurt during the revolution. He can't leave the house yet.” “But I'm sure he'd love some visit!” “I'm sure he does. Do you want us to show you where he lives?” “We can do that!” 

Shook my head. He was alive. I was so fucking happy and relieved, it was ridiculous. Nothing else mattered.

“Do you want us tell him that you asked?” 

Shook my head again and shrugged.

They smiled. “Alright.” they said and left. See, they were real fucking nice and it didn't look weird to see the two guys holding hands.

Combeferre. The first time I finally had a name to place on this beautiful face. Finding myself alone in my jewellery shop later on, I said it out loud. Just to see if it tasted like honey on my lips. It did.

A few weeks later I got a letter. It was the girl coming in. Wondered how she found me but when she gave me a letter from him, I knew. 

“You forgot your baby.” said.

She laughed: “My men are keeping care of it.”

“You sure letting a baby with guys is a good idea?” 

She laughed again. “Times are changing, my friend. Wake up and don't let the timebugs bite you.” 

Once alone, I opened the letter. Still having it with me, Ema. Would never throw it away. Was so beautiful and so important to me. It read:

My dear bee charmer,  
I hope you can forgive me for the weeks of absence. I know I can't. I miss you. Isn't it funny how we grow attached to acquaintances who we have met only a few dozen of times? The lack of you in my life already rips a hole into it, and with a strange certitude I know that you meeting Joly, Bossuet and Musichetta, was the luckiest coincidence that could have happened to me.  
I am still very weak and walking takes a lot of energy. Under no circumstances I would want to pressure you, but if you have a minute or two, I would love to see you. Would you like to come visit me at my apartment? 65, Boulevard St Michel. I am in desperate need of some honey and good music.  
-with polite excitement, Combeferre

No reason to lie. Went immediately. Ringing I thought, fuck, maybe should've waited a day or two? Maybe three. Looking too eager kinda looks uncool, right? But before I could turn around, the door opened.

It was a blond dude opening. Remembered him very well from a thievery once. Kinda hard to forget such a pretty face. Looked a bit odd. Kinda looked like a girl who would faint any second because her prince comes to save her. Had really rosy lips and long hair. And fucking hell, his blue eyes pierced right through me. No doubts that he remembered me, too. He startled and threw the door close, so I quickly shoved my foot between door frame and door. Not saying I'm very strong, but compared to this rich baby it was easy to hold it open.

“What do you want?” little boy-girl yelled. Fucking hell.

“Just trying to see Hon-... Combeferre!”

Suddenly the blond dude stopped resisting to let me open the door and stepped back. I stumbed in. Maybe I was hallucinating but I swear, Ema, his light eyes turned dark dark blue when he glared at me. “You are Combeferre's friend from the jewellery store?!” 

Lots of mixed feelings. One, whoa, Honey had told his friends about me. Two, whoa, there was a dude I once mugged, bad timing. Three, whoa, dude who I once mugged is the friend of Honey, and he doesn't seem please about that?

“Holy shit, I'm sorry, I swear, I only have good intentions! I'm here privately!”

No idea what happened next but I suddenly found myself pushed against the wall with the blond dude's arm pressing against my throat. Could barely breathe. Fucking dangerous this little girl, I tell you. 

“You better. If I see you taking away a single thing from our apartment, if I see you hurting, or only lying to Combeferre, I will not only denounce you to the police, but I will also make sure that you never, never ever set a foot outside a jail again. Do you understand?” 

Not lying, Ema, he really was terrifying. 

“I understand.” wheezed. Couldn't breathe.

He let go of me and I slipped to the ground, clenching my jaws and holding my throat.

“Who is there?” we suddenly heard Combeferre's delicate voice. The blonde dude stepped back and straightened his shirt. I am not lying, his eyes were sky blue again, and he looked small and beautiful again. I told you in a letter before, Ema, I was friends with a shapeshifter, but it was something very different to see a girl-like young boy turn into a valkyrie like that. Fucking scary. Not that I planned on mugging Combeferre, he was my honey after all, but holy shit, if I had planned on doing it, I surely wouldn't have now.

“Your friend.” the blonde dude smiled, and even his voice went from rough and dangerous to sweet and lovely. Heaving myself up back to my feet just in time to see him coming around the corner. Fuck, he was beautiful, even now. His skin looked really pale, and his eyes were deep set. Even his clothes hung loosely down his much thinner body, but damn. Damn! He was still absolutely handsome.

Proud to say that his eyes lit up when he saw me. Not so proud to say that my eyes did the same.

“Enjolras! What is it? Why are you not letting him in! Offer him some tea!” Combeferre exclaimed in a high, melodic voice full of enthusiasm.

“I just didn't know we expected guests.” the blond dude said before going down the corridor. Swear, he gave me another glare before disappearing. Combeferre limped over to me and pulled me into a hug. Breathed in his scent. Didn't really hug back but he smiled anways.

“I missed you!” he said. “Let's go to the kitchen, yes?” I nodded and brought out a jar of honey from my bag. Combeferre beamed and I allowed myself to smile back. Just a little. Just to let him know that I liked to see him happy.

Was kinda scary to see how rich those two students were. Books everywhere, and furniture that only people have who live on the Boulevard St Michel. You know, the one in dark, solid wood, with little embroidery. Fucking posh. Kinda pretty, though. They even had a chandelier in the kitchen. Will never be over that. A chandelier in the kitchen, Ema!

“It was only my leg, you know. After I woke up from the coma, I was really fine.”

“You were in a coma?” asked, trying not to look too concerned. The blond dude, Enjolras, eyed me suspiciously. Smiled at him. Got ignored.

“Just a few days.”

“Just a few days!” 

Combeferre blushed. “Anyways. It was only my leg. I can walk quite well by now, but the stairs are quite a bother. I hope you didn't worry too much.” Wanted to tell him how I had been scared he was dead, that this was how much I had worried. Didn't, though. Would have been weird.

“Nah.” Got another glare from Enjolras.

“The honey is really delicious.” my Honey smiled and I smirked.

“Yeah, it is.” 

“Oh, Enjolras! Did I tell you that Brujon is a bee charmer!” 

“I happened to understand. Since this is how you called him before you knew his name.” I looked down to hide my pinking face. Still felt the glare. “Oh, by the way, 'Ferre, your Ema called. You should call her back before she gets too worried.”

Combeferre bit his lips. Kinda wanted to bite his lips too. “I should. Brujon, would you excuse me?” Did. He got up and went back to the hallway where the phone stood. Held my tea with honey tightly on my knees. So awkward. Wanted to know who this Ema was. Probably his girlfriend. Enjolras had explicitly said 'your' Ema. Fucking hell. Was so stupid. Thinking the nicest, kindest, most handsome and most intelligent dude ever could like me back. Fucking stupid. Hated myself a lot right now. And then Enjolras sat down in front of me, still glaring.

“Listen.” he said, “Listen, I don't like you, and you know why. You're not a good person, and definitely not good enough for 'Ferre. But you make him happy and while this is the case I will not say a word. But I warn you. You hurt him, even if it's only a little, and you're dead.”

“Chill.”

“I am chill. But you shouldn't be. Be careful, my friend. Be very careful.”

Kinda wanted to chop him into pieces right there and then. Didn't because it's hard to chop people with a tea spoon. “Not gonna hurt him. And if I do, then I will gladly accept you killing me. He is in fact too good for me. I know that, thank you. And if someone, anyone, hurts him, then I want them to hurt, too. Even if that someone, anyone is me.”

Our eyes locked and it was silent until Combeferre came back. “Oh dear, I'm so sorry it took so long. I mean, I love her, but she really needs to care a little less.” he laughed.

Got up. “Gotta go.”

“What? Already? But you didn't play me any music yet! Why?” 

Enjolras was right. I was dirt, he was the light and everything good, and he loved his girlfriend. Why did I even think it could have ended any differently?

Shrugged. Left without another word.

Shit, Ema, I felt really bad that time. Kinda gonna stop now. Don't feel much better right now. But you said he's happy with, didn't you? He's alright? Fuck. Makes no sense how much a person can miss him.

~ Brujon


	4. Autumn

Dear Ema,

he came back three weeks later. He still looked pretty miserable and limped a lot, but he came back. Made him sit on my comfy chair behind the counter. He held up a flower. A blue forget-me-not. Told me it's for me.

Told him that this blue kinda doesn't match with the red wallpaper. He laughed and put it in a stolen vase. Combeferre never cared for my bitter answers, or sarcastic replies. Combeferre always appreciated my dark words and acted as if I had just been joking. Maybe I was, though. Joking. Hard to tell when you're hurt like I was back then.

From then on he came every day, buying necklaces, rings, earrings, bracelets, hairbands, brooches, always something different. Every day. And every day he brought me a different flower. He paid good money and I didn't complain. But every night when the shop closed, the night fell, I was alone, and I had to throw the water and the flower away, I reminded myself that he had a girlfriend, and that I was nothing but an 'acquaintance'.

See, on the one hand I was happy, to even be graced by his presence. On the other hand I felt terrible because I knew that I would never be more than that. A person graced by his presence.

…

I miss him, Ema. The wind is getting colder outside, and I still haven't found a safe place to stay over the winter. I wish that I could see him once more before I die, but I assume that you are going to keep him, won't you? I understand very well, if I were you, I wouldn't let him go either.

~Brujon


	5. November, 1970

Dear Ema,

gonna tell you about our first accidental kiss, okay? I hope it's not all too cringe-worthy for you and that I'm not embarrassing you. But since the outcome of this story is deeply linked with this kiss, I am unable to inform you about everything without not leaving this out.

“You were just here this morning!” exclaimed when Honey came into my jewellery shop again. Just this morning he had brought me a flower and bought a necklace of pure gold, and now he was here again.

“I … know.” His voice was very hesitant. Don't know why but this was the moment when I exploded. When all the disappointment, sadness and anger suddenly burst out of me. For the first time since I met him, I showed real emotions.

Yelled. “What now?! Is your girlfriend so greedy?! I think she really needs to come down from her throne! Having you buy a present every day! Flowers! Flowers I understand! But jewellery! No matter how rich you are, this is insane! Did she not like the necklace? She was probably really disappointed when it was only a necklace! She probably expected more! I don't get how she can do that! Your mere presence should make her happy enough! How can she be so shitty to you? Keeping you buy stuff for her! So rude!” At least I think this was what I said. Well, you get my drift.

There are no words to describe the expression on Combeferre's face. He opened and closed his mouth a few times, trying to find right words to say. “I … no.” he eventually breathed.

“No, what?!”

“I … I don't buy all those things for-... I come here every day to support you.” he got up, probably to look me in the eyes. “After you where at my place, Enjolras told me who you are. I figured that you are probably trying to become an honest man and I want to help you with that. Doubting that you like charity, I decided to just buy things from you. I … I just want to keep your business running because I think you deserve it.”

Remember how I stared at him. Fucking hell. How can it be that me, who is really up to no good, meets the kindest, nicest, handsomest, intelligentest person on this earth. How?! Still. He didn't belong to me. “You still gave the stuff to you girlfriend.”

Combeferre frowned. Remember that frown. He looked so very puzzled. “I … I'm sorry, Brujon, but I don't have a girlfriend. I'm really- … I mean, I'm very-...” he cleared his throat. “I don't have a girlfriend, never had one.”

Crossed my arms. Knew what he tried to say. My heart beat a little faster. “Then who did you give your presents to? Who is this Ema?!”

He stared at me for a good, long while. Then, slowly, his lips curved up into a smile and he burst out into laughter. “My Ema?!” He held his stomach, nearly doubling up from all the laughing. “Brujon! Brujon, my Ema is my mother! Ema means mother in Hebrew! I gave all the stuff to her!”

Stared at him as he laughed so much that his face turned all red. Was kinda offended. Was kinda relieved. Was kinda amused by him laughing so much.

“You're very close to your mother then?” asked, deadpan. Combeferre nodded, trying to calm himself, ending up giggling. Fucking cute giggle. I smirked now.

Would have giggled too, but hid it behind my crossed arms. Must've looked like I was hurt, because a moment later Combeferre pulled himself together and walked closer to me.

“I'm sorry, Brujon. I didn't mean to confuse you so much! And I certainly didn't mean to lie to you! I really just came here every day with a flower because I-... Because I like you.” Pause. “Forgive me?”

My mind tried to proceed what he just said to me, tried to proceed what had just happened, how I was feeling. Then nodded and he leaned in to kiss my cheek.

Don't know why I did this, Ema, but I did. The moment I saw his face coming closer, I turned my head to meet his lips with mine.

…

Wanted to kiss him, yes, from the second I first saw him, but didn't mean for it to be such a strange, impulsive gesture. And surely didn't mean for him to pull away so quickly, so surprised and hurriedly, covering his mouth with his fingers. See, your and his skin are both very dark, so you know that even when you blush a lot, it is barely visible. But I promise you, Ema, that in this very moment his cheeks and ears flushed crimson.

“I'm sorry...” exhaled, staring at him.

He shook his head, he looked just as much taken by surprise as I did. “I … this wasn't my intention. Was it my fault? I mean, I- … I wanted to, but I didn't mean to accidentally... Did I just? Or was it you?!”

Blinked and admitted. “Think, it was me.” 

“Oh.” he said. For a second we just looked at each other. Then I felt his hands cupping my jaws and pulling me into another kiss. A real one, Ema. And it was wonderful.

Now, Ema, you know how this story ends. You know how we went out together for a whole year, before someone told the police that I was selling stolen goods, and I had to leave the country. You know how he finally told you and his Abba about us and you got angry at us, forbidding him to leave the country with me without his university degree. You know how I had to leave alone, although he tried to make me stay, and how I haven't seen him in a whole year now, haven't heard from him. I know that you make sure that all my letters never reached him, and I know that you are the reason that even if he wrote, his letters would never arrived. This is why I'm writing you, Ema, this is why I'm telling you my story, telling you the story of how we met. I know it's not much, and I know you and Abba wish that I was a girl, or at least Jewish, but I'm kinda neither, but I wish I was too. I also wish I could write this letter from a real home, instead of from a cold, dark basement, in which I'm not supposed to be.

So, even if you don't let him join me, even if you won't tell him a word about my letters, let him at least know that I'm alright, and make sure he is alright too. I tried to become an honest man, I promise, and I know that trying, doeesn't make you honest right away. Doesn't make you worthy, doesn't make you good enough. I know that, and I'm not mad at you. But please, tell him I'm alright. I write you for this sole reason; I want you to know that no matter what you heard, I do love your son, and I am sorry for not being enough.

~ Brujon


End file.
